Empathy
by alambil felicis
Summary: That was the day that Astoria's thoughts about the horrid character of Draco Malfoy changed. And it wasn't expected; it just happened when Draco offered help to a desperate Astoria for a Potions assignment. Oneshot.


_My first attempt to an AstoriaxDraco ship. I've only read like two or three fics and I have no idea how the readers like their AstoriaxDraco. Not mugh romance going on. But whatever. There's a multi-chaptered story building up in my brain, but I still have to draft it out. So, anyway, checkooozzzz..._

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><p>Astoria hated Potions. She had no interest in all the sorts of stirring clockwise then counterclockwise, crushing crunchy things with the side of a knife's blade or measuring goat's bile unto the boiling contents of a cauldron. The fumes were bad to her sensitive skin and she happens to have asthma, by the way. She hated it immensely. And it doesn't help that she finds Professor Slughorn a miserable old man who takes advantage of his students' credentials and connections, therefore, practices favouritism. Professor Snape was no better either; Astoria might be one of the best students in the Slytherin house in her year, but it is apparent that the former Potions Master does not take any pleasant notice of her. Actually, nobody does.<p>

To most people, Astoria knows that she's just Daphne Greengrass' little snobby sister who probably feels that she's too good for friends or anything of the sort, which is, in fact, a false account. Astoria learned to shut herself up just because she got tired of being compared to her older sister, who seems to have the best things in life. Daphne was part of the highest ranking Slytherin clique. Sure, they were mean, but nobody tried to defy them, and if there were anybody who did, they'd get themselves in a pretty bad predicament. Astoria doesn't want to be a part of any of that. She believes she'll do better on her own; all she has to do is to keep a low profile, low, but strong.

And now back to the dilemma at hand. The stupid Potions essay about the effects and properties of every ingredient of the Wit-Sharpening Potion drove Astoria to desperate measures. She snuck in the Potions classroom when she was sure that everyone had gone to bed. There, she 'borrowed' a few ingredients from Professor Slughorn's cupboard, and a small cauldron that contained the concoction which they were to write a foot-long of essay about. She didn't feel guilty, whatsoever. She needed that O for this essay after her poor performance on the practical test of brewing a draught last week, and she was going to get that mark no matter what it takes. She was not sorted to Slytherin for nothing, after all.

Now, it was one o'clock in the morning and she had only written a quarter of her essay, and there were only three ingredients for the potion! She was certainly no good at this, but she wasn't going to ask for help. She sniffed the little pouch of the grounded scarab beetle and wrinkled her nose at the smell. She placed a pinch on her palm and examined the texture. She placed back the powder in its container and formed sentences on her parchment after reading the ingredient's properties from the book she borrowed from the library, borrow and not steal, mind you. She grabbed an unfamiliar jerking pouch which was one of the things she smuggled from Slughorn's ingredients cupboard. Astoria peered at the label which only said "24 pieces". She felt curious and opened it. And then she fell back and dropped it as a couple of dozen of jumping beans jumped out of the pouch. The beans hopped along the floor and scattered everywhere. Astoria cursed and crawled on the floor as she was collecting the beans. She counted while she gathered furiously.

"Twenty-three," she hissed. "Where the hell is twenty-four?"

Astoria was groping under the sofa when she saw a pair of shiny fancy black dragon-leather shoes inches from her face. Those shoes were attached to a pair of feet. She looked up. The feet were attached to a boy. The boy was Draco Malfoy.

"Twenty-four," he said in a low voice while holding up a wriggling bean between his index finger and thumb.

Astoria stood up with her nose in the air and got the bean from his fingers, managing to avoid physical contact with him. She placed it back on the pouch and tied the string tightly. Draco noticed the half-full cauldron on the table beside scraps of parchments and the mess of containers on the floor. He looked at Astoria, who was leafing through a thick book. She felt his eyes on her and snarled, "What?"

Draco went over to the fresh parchment she was writing her essay on and skimmed the paragraph. "You're doing a terrible job," he commented.

Astoria reached out and tried to grab the paper but Draco's reflexes were much faster than hers. "I don't need help," she said tartly.

Draco's face didn't express any sharp responses as Astoria expected, but instead, he looked weary and anxious. His hair was stuck on ends as if he had been running his hand through it again and again. His eyes were droopy and bloodshot. Astoria looked at him suspiciously as he continued to examine her paper.

"The armadillo bile doesn't go in the cauldron until the ginger root turns green," he corrected. "Not the other way around." He looked at her expectantly. "And there are also other mistakes, factually and grammatically, but you said you didn't need any help."

"_Grammatically_," she echoed spitefully to herself.

Draco scooped the bits of crumpled parchment scattered on the sofa and looked at them. They were sketches plants, bubbling cauldrons, owls and professors. "No wonder you're doing horribly; you've been spending time on your little doodles."

"None of your business," she whispered embarrassedly and swiped her drawings of his hold.

"They're actually good, though," Draco muttered almost inaudibly as he handed her back her essay.

Astoria slowly got the parchment, keeping a cautious eye on him. He was acting very strangely ever since the start of terms. They weren't friends or anything of the sort, she was just a really good observer. She noticed a lot of changes in Draco and she was not sure if those changes could be trusted. "Whatever," she managed to say.

Draco lingered on for a few moments and when he felt that he wasn't needed, he sighed tiredly and headed towards the boys' dormitories. But Astoria called out, "I heard you gatecrashed Slughorn's party earlier."

He stopped on his tracks and debated whether he should turn around and reply at her remark, but decided that it was useless to converse with Astoria, as he knew she could be very anti-social at times. He exhaled ostentatiously and continued walking.

"The party ended a couple of hours ago," Astoria continued with a hint of accusation in her voice. "What were you doing out late?"

"You care?" Draco couldn't resist responding. As much as he hated admitting it, he actually needed company right now.

"No," came Astoria's nonchalant answer. "Just suspicious, that's all."

"Suspicious," Draco scoffed weakly; he doesn't have any energy left with him to scoff and sneer like he used to. "You're the thief, and you're actually suspicious. Seems ironic, don't you think?" He eyed the ingredients and the cauldron.

Astoria's eyes furrowed. "Don't call me a thief. I borrowed these things. It's for an infernal assignment Slughorn required."

Draco found himself walking toward her before he could stop himself. He peeked at the cauldron then snatched the parchment from Astoria. "The first set of the ginger root to be mixed should be cut. Are you sure you don't need help?"

Astoria tightened her lip, "What do you know?"

"More than you do. I happen to have perfected this potion in my fourth year," he placed the parchment on the table and got the book Astoria borrowed, flicking through its pages. "This book, I read this when we had to make the Draught of Peace. It's as useless as cack."

She surrendered. "Good thing you're here then; you can help me with it."

"I knew you'd concede," Draco answered unfathomably. They sat down at the sofa and he pointed out Astoria's mistakes. "The scarab beetles provide the wit part of the Wit-Sharpening potion. The ginger root boosts memory and the armadillo bile helps clear the mind from unimportant thoughts. It's that simple."

"Well, for me it's pretty complicated," Astoria replied, trying hard not to wound her own pride. Draco bent over the cauldron at the table and_ Evanesco_'d the potion in it. He cut a fresh batch of ginger roots and started dumping in on the cauldron as Astoria scribbled notes on a spare bit of parchment. She couldn't take the uneasy silence, even though they don't usually speak to each other, so she spoke up. "So what were you doing all this time, after you crashed in the party?"

Draco didn't answer. Astoria rephrased her question. "Were you in detention? I heard Filch caught you and then Snape dealt with you."

"Snape just talked to me," he replied dully.

"I don't believe that,"

"Then don't," she replied. Draco started mixing the potion as it slowly turned to a light grey. Astoria's eyes landed on his. They were sad and empty and…scared? The color of his eyes was cold, just like the color of the potion he was brewing. Draco suddenly looked at her.

"You just keep on mixing until it turns lime green," he informed. Astoria felt the ironic heat of the gaze of his cold eyes and immediately looked down on the cauldron. The liquid was now forest green.

"Were you in trouble?" she asked, returning to the former subject.

Draco continued stirring. "No."

"Why did you even want to go in that par—"

Draco cut her off in annoyance, "Where did you even hear what I did?"

She smiled mockingly, "Everyone's talking about it. Filch caught you going up to the direction of the party and he brought you there to tell on a teacher. Honestly, your sneaking skills are weak, if not non-existent."

This remark touched a nerve on DRaco and Astoria couldn't understand why. "What do you know about me and what I'm capable of? You know nothing and here you are, commenting about my sneaking skills, as immature as that sounds—"

"You don't need to be all touchy," she raised her voice slightly. She expected him to stand up and go to bed, but he didn't. He stayed rooted on his seat, pouring a considerable amount of armadillo bile into the lime green concoction and stirred on with concentration. "Why are you still helping me?"

Draco looked up and quirked an eyebrow. The sudden eye contact made Astoria flinch slightly. "You'd be buried alive if I did not."

"I appreciate your concerns," Astoria said sardonically.

"Oh I'm not concerned," Draco said in a sad monotone. "I just need to…"

"Hmm?"

He stole a glance at her, "To take my mind off of something."

That glance and that answer gave Astoria the feeling that he was miserable. She felt herself melt a little. Not out of pity, or concern, but of empathy. She didn't know why, as all Draco reasoned towards her was because he needed some sort of distraction, and she knew that the last thing she herself needed was distraction. Empathy…It was probably the way Draco acted now. He was often seen alone; well, actually, he was not often seen, but when he is present, you could notice his separation from his Slytherin posse. He always looked apprehensive and gave the impression that he didn't want and need any kind of companionship. But as she was sitting close to him in that cold December night (or morning, as it was past midnight) even if the fire crackled before the two of them, she could sense a desperate need of something emanating from him. That something, she felt and thought, was comfort.

Empathy, she felt empathy. She, too, needed comfort, although the very reason of that need she considered childish. She needed comfort from herself. Others had been harsh to her, and because of that, she constructed this thick wall to shield her from conformity. She was always compared to her sister and her mother and her female cousins. She was always considered this puny girl who struck as dumb or gullible. Well, she was neither, and she got tired of listening to them. So, she isolated herself, which caused an unpleasant judgment to her in Hogwarts.

But now her own self was being harsh on her. And she needed comfort.

"You're the first person who ever offered help," she said quietly. "Even though I firmly stated that I didn't need any."

Draco kept silent.

"You know," Astoria breathed with a faint smile. "Sometimes, I just need someone to force him or herself to me because I hate admitting that I actually need to associate myself with others. You know that feeling?"

Draco shrugged, but she knew that he knew.

"What was it you needed to be distracted from?" she asked.

"Not distracted," he said grimly, as if the mere thought of that 'something' troubled him so much. "Just…I just needed a respite."

"OK, what was it, then?"

Draco looked at her. "I'd have to murder you, then."

Astoria thought it was so unlike of him to say that, she almost laughed, if it weren't for the agonized expression on his face.

"Pass me that dropper, will you?" he pointed to the far end of the table nearest to her.

She reached for the dropper and held it for Draco. Their hands touching seemed to make Astoria send her back in herself and she inched away from Draco, thinking that she was sitting too close to him. Draco, meanwhile, looked unmoved and Astoria thought of her silly to be reacting in such a ridiculous manner, only if she knew how it affected Draco. He felt his neck heat up and he hid his face, fearing he might have a little color in his cheeks. But thankfully, his circulatory system decided that it was far too tired to send a tinge of pink on his face.

He cleared his throat and awkwardly said, "So, you like drawing?"

"Please don't go there," Astoria drawled.

Draco shrugged and shook out three pieces of scarab beetles from its container. He put back its cap on but he dropped it. Both of them lunged down to catch it but all they caught was each others' fingers. They recoiled away from each other and Draco grabbed the cap from the floor after a moment.

"Sorry," Astoria said, sounding as cool as possible.

He quickly peered at her notes and said, "You seem to be doing fine there. If you want to finish the potion to get a fuller perspective about the ingredients' individual relevance to the concoction, then all you have to do is let it simmer for ten minutes and then drop in more ginger root until it turns a dark shade of orange." He stood up and wiped his hands on his trousers.

Astoria's face was of surprise and confusion.

"You can handle it," he said. "And I'm tired from all the day's work." But truth was, he was just tired of putting up an act in front of her, in front of everyone.

"Alright," she replied, as he started to leave.

"Oh, erm, Malf—Dr—Draco," she said uncomfortably. Draco stopped. "Is something bothering you?"

He made a small movement that Astoria took as a 'nothing'. Both of them knew that he was lying.

"You know, you can't trust everybody, or just simply anybody," she said meaningfully, as if she could see right through Draco (and it was that impression to him too). "But you have to trust _somebody_. You're not alone, even if you think you are."

"Great, I'll keep that in mind," he replied after a moment, keeping his voice.

He went upstairs and lied down on his bed. That Astoria girl was someone he should stay away from, he thought. Astoria felt the same, but she felt that there was something about him that draws her in. She thinks she could understand him, she just doesn't know why. But she knows what. She feels it. That obstinate denying need of friendship.

That was the day that Astoria's thoughts about the horrid character of Draco Malfoy changed.

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><p><em>So, this happened that night after Draco got caught sneaking in the corridors during Slughorn's party. Draco was out late because he was spending time with the Vanishing Cabinet. I actually forgot what happened to Draco after he got caught by Filch in the book, so I'm hoping that this thing worked out. And if you see the name Scorpius, instead of Draco, or the name Rose, instead of Astoria, please point it out. xD I'm in the middle of a Scorose Spaz. Haha...<em>

_Apologies for wrong grammars and spellings._


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